Tonight, She'd Launch

She let a single tear roll down her cheek and allowed herself to feel it all, the weight of everything she had strengthened herself to endure.

It was an easy life, she supposed, but not so easy.

No. It was no walk in the park raising two children, even with the support of a good man.

Her life was rushing past her.

Looking up at the starry sky that night, she realized how work and family had been nibbling away at her time, little by little, almost without her noticing. Then she remembered her telescope, collecting dust somewhere in the attic, next to it her dad's wheelchair.

She sobbed.

“I miss the old me.”

The carefree me. The one who didn't have so many responsibilities. The chirpy, bubbly girl who was more dreamer than the reserved, bland realist she had gradually, unknowingly become.

She dared to admit that she resented being pragmatic and grounded and all those things grown-ups were supposed to be. Sometimes she wished she could go back to not caring about a single thing in the world.

How had everything become so confining? She had always thought her's was not the world but the universe. Tonight, however, she couldn't shake the feeling that her universe had somehow grown smaller. Needs mounting. Pressure piling. Social distancing and love dying.

She was grateful though, of course. Grateful that she'd made it this far somehow. Grateful for her children, for her man, for the life they had built together.

But she didn't think she'd ever wanted all this baggage.

This night, she wanted something for herself. Rose knew nothing outside of her could ever make her happy, it all came from within. She had told her teenage self that so many times before, now as a grown woman it must have stuck.

The kids could cope.

So could her man.

Inside her was a little girl burning to come out again, the girl who chased butterflies when her biggest worries were homework and, occasionally, boys.

No.

Tonight, there would be no boys.

Tonight, she'd be just R-o-s-e.

Independent and alone, but not lonely. Geeky Rose, who would dream once more of becoming one with the sky. She'd rocket to the moon and visit every planet, then travel farther still, somewhere beyond everything she knew.

And tonight, her back would not hurt.

Hell no.

At 10:00 p.m., “Little Missy” was rummaging through old boxes encrusted with dust.

She had hugged her mum and stayed long enough for a little how-have-you-been? time before disappearing into the attic. Dad's wheelchair brought back his memories she wanted so badly to hug him one last time, so she stopped a bit and allowed herself feel the loss its happened just the previous year. Then she was back at. She didn't even care if the dust gave her a breakout.

Then she found it.

Her old telescope.

She wiped the dust from it slowly, almost tenderly, like greeting an old friend she'd abandoned without meaning to.

And that night, Rose would peer through that old scope once more.

For a few hours there would be no deadlines. No bills. No lunches to pack. No aching back. No one calling, Mum!

There would only be Rose and the stars.

And tonight - she'd launch.